


Intrapersonal

by pushingthesenses



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ben Solo Lives, Ben just having a hard time of it, Drabble, Gen, Redeemed Ben Solo, Resistance Member Ben Solo, This is very short, and could be male or female or non-binary, but still doing his best, does anyone even read these little things on here anymore?, i don't really know how else to tag this, if this gets lost in the ether so be it, like does anyone even read one-shots on AO3?, reader has no traits, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushingthesenses/pseuds/pushingthesenses
Summary: After a strenuous and exhausting battle on Exegol, Ben returns to the resistance base on Ajan Kloss, where you watch as he struggles to make peace with himself.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Intrapersonal

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this forever ago, right after seeing TROS, but never thought to post it.  
> This little piece can be seen in a romantic or a platonic sense. Reader has no defining traits or gender. There's also no given background for how reader knows Ben.

He tries, he really _tries_.  
You know he does.

The sun has already begun to set, and the humid air of Ajan Kloss becomes only marginally bearable as the twin moons take place of the searing sun. There’s still so much to do - so much still to build. 

You see him out of the corner of your eye, fumbling with wires that should connect to a comms system. You thought he’d be confused by the equipment - it’s old, rusting, and sometimes takes a good kick to even start. It’s been years since the resistance has seen any new tech, unlike the First Order who had sleek, soundless materials and top of the range _everything_. You assumed - wrongly - that he wouldn’t know his way around the systems. But he did. He does. You think he’ll make a good technician, or even an engineer.

He wants to help. Really, he does. And you know that, too.

You watch as he moves upon noticing a pair of ground tech’s struggling to carry a heavy crate. Swiftly turning on his heel, he trudges over to help. His gait is different, now. He walks in that subdued, apologetic way that large people do. Like he’s sorry for how much space he’s forced to occupy just by existing. He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off before any words come out - unspoken words suspended in the muggy air. 

“We’ve got it,” One of the men grunts. You can feel the ice in his glare, even from where you sit. “ _Supreme Leader_.”  
That hurts him - you know it does. You can see it in his face, in his eyes as he lowers them in defeat. He steps back, nodding softly in a pained understanding that nothing he does - or tries to do - will ever be enough.

He knows that nothing he could say will ever garner any trust. He knows that no one will ever want him here. Not really.  
No one except for you. He’ll always be grateful for you. You know that, and though you’re glad for it, you know that it burns away at his insides. The shame, the guilt he feels, it churns in his stomach like a caustic acid. He doesn’t think he deserves you - doesn’t think he deserves to have someone. Why should _anyone_ care for him after all that he’s done? 

He tells you that he’s never had anyone, not really, not even a friend - at least, not since Tai. He tells you that the last time he spoke with him, was the last time he felt like _Ben_. Like himself. He tells you how he watched him die.

You’re sitting by the fire near the camp, and you watch as he trudges toward you. Dejected, defeated. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s felt anything else - anything but shame, anything but suffering. You’re silent as he sits adjacent to you. You let him set the tone of what he’s comfortable with - he’s been through enough, you think. 

He goes through phases. Sometimes, he’s a talker - just like his father. You can see a faint glow in him on those days. He’ll laugh, sometimes he’ll even joke. Those moments are special - to you, and to him. Because he doesn’t remember the last time he laughed. Those are the days that give you hope - that he’ll recover, and he’ll pull through this. Because he can, you know he can. But other times, he’s quiet. He’ll spend those days inside his own head, in a thicket of intrapersonal briars. On those days, you give him space.  
You’re not quite sure what today is. Perhaps he’s balancing precariously somewhere in the space between.

“I have no right to miss her,” he says finally, staring straight into the flames. The way they crackle, hiss and spit reminds him of a sound he’d rather forget. You’re quiet as he chews at his cheek, watching as the glimmer illuminates his features in a tangerine haze. “But I do.”  
“You have every right to miss her, you’re her son.”  
“No, I don’t,” he shakes his head. “Look at all I’ve done. I could never earn the right.”  
“ _Exactly_ , look at all you’ve done,” you say, gesturing to the base around you. To all the people that came home, back to Ajan Kloss. All the people that could have - _would_ have - died in the turbulent skies of Exegol, were it not for Ben. They may look at him with contempt, but he’s the reason they’re breathing at all. And it sickens you, the way they see him. As an animal that deserves to be caged, a predator that deserves to be strung up and ripped apart. They wouldn’t need to go that far, anyway. They wouldn’t need to bother. Ben had already done it to himself.

“This, all of this,” you continue. “These people, this base, it’s here because of you. Saved because of _you_.”  
“Everyone except for her,” he mumbles, shifting uncomfortably. “She died because of me.”  
“She died to bring you home. That’s all she ever wanted, and look,” you pat his shoulder gently. “Here you are. You gave her all she wanted. She didn’t die for nothing.”  
He shakes his head again, turning his head away. You know he’s blinking back tears, pushing away yet another sign of what he deems a weakness. You know he doesn’t want you, or anyone else, to see.  
“They’ll never accept me here, anyway.”  
“I do,” and you mean it. And he knows you mean it. “And they will.”  
“I can’t be what they need.”

“There’s so much you thought you could never do, yet here you are,” and he looks at you then. The flicker of the flames reflect in his gaze. And he’s tired, he’s so tired and you just wish he could see himself the way you see him - brave and capable and so, so _loved_. 

“You’re not as black and white as they want you to be, Ben. And your story doesn’t end here. This is where it _starts_.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hello on tumblr!](https://kkysolo.tumblr.com/)


End file.
